


Quirk of Matter

by sparklyfaerie



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Library Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklyfaerie/pseuds/sparklyfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What's life?" He'd once said. "Life's easy. A quirk of matter."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quirk of Matter

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or anything associated with it. All rights to Doctor Who and affiliated products belong to the BBC and the other proper entities. Any recognisable dialogue belongs to it's respective author, and the BBC network.

In the end, the solution was so incredibly simple.

He wondered that he hadn't thought of it before, when he'd spent endless hours thinking about how to save her. Because, he knew, there was no way he'd have trapped her in that machine if there weren't some way to properly save her. He would sometimes attempt to play God—he would do his damndest and jump through as many loopholes as he could to save a person; but if they died, they died. He wouldn't place a person who  _knew_  that they'd died in what was, essentially, a never-ending prison. That belief had only strengthened over time, as he got to know her and realised that she would  _hate_  life in the Data Core.

But no matter what he'd theorised about and tested with simulated consciousnesses, there was no way to extract a data ghost from a computer core and download it into a body. It simply was not possible. So, why the neural relay device?

The answer hit him somewhere around his thirteen-hundred and seventy second birthday.

That wasn't her salvation—it was merely another red flag from his future self. ' _You can do it. This woman is important. Don't give up on her yet. You can save her._ '

So, it followed that there was a way to save her that didn't involve extracting her consciousness from the computer. He considered cloning, before tossing aside the idea. Clones had a consciousness of their own, and didn't carry the memories of their DNA donors. The woman that he would create would  _look_  like River, but would be someone completely different.

There was subverting the death altogether, much like he'd done in Utah. Sticking in a duplicate—an Auton that looked like her, or another Tesselecta, or even a Flesh duplicate. But, no, he thought, that would be no good. He'd desperately scanned her body when Donna had set him free, hoping against hope that there was something he could do for her. It had definitely been a real body—if it had been an Auton or a robot, his sonic screwdriver would have picked up on it. And the Flesh turned to goo when they died.

So, not a duplicate. It had definitely been River sitting on that chair and wiring herself up to the computer.

He considered a progenitor machine, like the one that had created Jenny. But he wasn't sure he would be able to get a sample of her genetic material for the machine without being suspicious. He might not even be able to program one properly to create a specific template—and besides, there was still that little issue of the consciousness. In theory, it  _could_  work if he swapped the military knowledge for the memories of River's data ghost, but there were far too many variables. He could, he supposed, file it away for a Plan B.

The answer was something that he knew. He could practically  _taste_  it.

* * *

He'd been in the wardrobe, of all places, when the solution hit him.

He'd been browsing his vast array of clothing, thinking that, perhaps, it was time to change his look again. He'd pulled out his old green greatcoat and smiled fondly, thinking of Amy and Rory.

He really did like that coat.

He folded it over his arm as he searched through numerous shirts and trousers, pulling a few out and holding them against his coat to see if they matched. When he'd managed to assemble an outfit and dressed in it, checking himself out in the mirror, he nodded with satisfaction. It was a bit military (except for the bow tie, because they were  _cool_ ), but he liked it.

He filched out an old British Royal Air Force hat and perched it atop his head, grinning like a lunatic and thinking about, of all people, Jack Harkness. Yes, this outfit was very Jack.

He paused, eyes widening.

 _Jack_.

The first time he'd  _met_  Jack, hadn't he encountered a piece of technology that could… and if he managed to… he could…!

He practically flew up the stairs and into the console room, stopping only to retrieve his hat as it fell from his head.

* * *

He made a brief stop in the fifty-first century before he parked the TARDIS in an inconspicuous alley, making it invisible, just in case. It wouldn't do if it were seen by the wrong person. Technically, he hadn't been here yet. A quick check on the scanner told him that he was roughly two weeks before he'd arrived for the first time.

He strolled around the streets in the afternoon, dipping his hat at the locals as they went about clearing the rubble from the last night's German air raid. To them, he looked like just another R.A.F. Officer patrolling the London streets by foot.

He made his way to the building that the R.A.F. and American volunteers used as a headquarters, flashing his psychic paper at one of the guards.

"Sir!" The man saluted him as he passed and slipped into the building. He glanced at the paper.

_Air Marshal Smith, John  
Royal Air Force_

Shrugging, he shoved the paper back into his pocket and climbed the stairs, hearing the work of the day die down outside. The sun was setting and people would be wanting to eat an early dinner before the Germans flew overhead again.

He finally entered the lounge on the second floor, where the Officers were chatting amiably. There were war talks downstairs—he'd heard them coming up and knew that Winston was busy planning away down below—but for now this room was full of good cheer. Soon there would be a siren signalling the beginning of an air raid, but for now the Officers mingled and laughed.

Good old British humans, the Doctor thought fondly, eyeing them and the American volunteers. Nothing ever could get them down for too long.

It only took him a few seconds to locate Jack in the throng, laughing and flirting with a bunch of men and a few women from the A.T.S. who were on break from their shifts as Air Raid Wardens. Younger than the Doctor had ever seen him. He thought of Berlin, and smiled.

He hung to the back of the room, just watching. He knew that Jack had noticed his gaze fixed unerringly on him, but neither of them made any sort of move until the sirens started going off.

"Quickly, all of you!" One of the men called. "Down to the shelter!"

The Doctor followed the men, blending in easily as they all produced ID for the man at the door. Luckily, there was no list of names, or the Doctor would have been in for a world of trouble. Which, for once, he was actually keen to avoid. No getting involved in the gas-mask people, certainly. He didn't need a sticky paradox like  _that_. Again.

The shelter itself was merely a bunker with benches lining either side of it. The Doctor settled on one to wait out the shelter, allowing himself an inward smug grin as Jack took the seat next to him.

"I saw you inside." Jack leaned over and murmured to him, so the others couldn't hear. "I haven't seen you around before, what's your name?"

"John Smith, one-two-seven squadron. You?" He asked, feigning ignorance as he flashed him his psychic, concentrating very hard on what he wanted Jack to see.

"Captain Jack Harkness," he handed him a wallet containing his psychic paper, using the tone that he often used to flirt with, "one-three-three squadron, American volunteer."

The Doctor lifted an eyebrow at the blank paper in his hand before handing it back. " _Liar_." He admonished in a low voice, under the chatter of the other men.

"I beg your pardon?" Jack asked, sounding surprised.

The Doctor lifted an eyebrow. "This paper is blank. Psychic paper, didn't become available to humans until… oh, the fifty-first century?" He smirked at his friend (even if he didn't know he was his friend yet). "I don't suppose," he continued quietly, "you'd know anything about the Chula warship tethered to Big Ben, would you, Captain?"

"That depends," Jack's voice was now hard. "Who's asking?"

The Doctor winked. "No one who's going to report you, don't worry."

* * *

"So, what's your real name, then?" Jack asked later, after they'd left the bunker and were able to go to get a drink.

"Song." The Doctor answered without hesitation. "Rory Song."

"Nice to meet you, Rory." Jack offered his hand for the Doctor to shake. He took it. "Can I ask—what're you doing in the middle of the London Blitz? Not exactly the best tourist attraction."

The Doctor shrugged, fiddling with the nuts on the bar. "I saw the Chula ambulance jumping time tracks." At least, the Doctor thought, that wasn't  _technically_  a lie. "I traced it back to the warship in front of Big Ben and went looking for the pilot."

Jack took a swig of his whiskey. "How'd you know it was me?"

The Doctor gave a snort of laughter. "How many men from the nineteen forties would openly flirt with that many men at once?"

Jack inclined his drink toward the Doctor with a nod. "Fair enough. I need to be more discrete."

"Where's the fun in discrete?" The Doctor asked. Jack laughed. "Also," the Doctor nodded to Jack's hand, "you have a Vortex Manipulator strapped to your wrist."

"You're not from the Agency, are you?" Jack asked suspiciously, sobering immediately.

The Doctor scoffed. "No. I most certainly am not."

"Good." Jack finished his drink and slipped a bill onto the counter for another. "So, Mister Song—"

"Doctor." The Doctor corrected, on impulse. "Doctor Song."

"—sorry.  _Doctor_ Song." Jack corrected with a grin. "What can  _I_ ," Jack placed his hand surreptitiously on the Doctor's knee, "do for  _you_?"

"Well, for starters," the Doctor took Jack's wrist and lifted his hand off his leg, "you can show me your ship. Not the ambulance. The warship."

Jack grinned flirtatiously. "Your wish is my command, Doctor Song."

* * *

The ship was exactly as the Doctor remembered it. The second that Jack closed the door, the Doctor snapped his fingers—once again, the nanogenes swarmed around his hand, mending a scrape he'd gotten off the TARDIS console the day before. "Knew it." He grinned.

"Knew what?" Jack asked in surprise.

The Doctor shook his hand, dispelling the yellow glow. "You've got nanogenes."

"Yeah?" Jack asked, sitting in his pilot's seat. "So?"

"Captain Jack Harkness," the Doctor leant against the wall with the bunk embedded in the side, drawing a credit stick from his pocket and shaking it a little to catch Jack's attention. "I propose we do a little business."

"Like what?" Jack asked slowly.

The Doctor grinned. "I'd like to buy some of your nanogenes."

* * *

Later on, when the Doctor returned to the TARDIS, he could only laugh. He pushed the tube containing the nanogenes into the slot that the TARDIS had created on her console, essentially making them part of the TARDIS itself. It briefly crossed his mind that he could have used these that time that Rory… well, every time that Rory had died, really. But he pushed that thought from his mind and twirled around the console with a high-pitched, excited giggle.

* * *

The next time he had River on the TARDIS, she yelped as the nanogenes swarmed around her. "Doctor?"

He peered around the console. "What's wrong?" He teased. "Never seen any nanogenes before?"

River huffed, and the nanogenes dissipated. "Of course I have. I'm just not used to them swarming all over me when I step into a room."

The Doctor shrugged. "I've programmed them to take a genetic template of every new species that walks into the TARDIS. No harm done."

River bounced up the stairs and started making adjustments as he moved around the console. "They're a recent acquisition, then?"

"Bit of trouble in the early nineteen forties." The Doctor shrugged. "Some rogue nanogenes accidentally got the wrong genetic template for the human race and started infecting people. I lent a bit of a hand." He neglected to mention the fact that this was over four hundred and fifty years into his past.

"I see." River sat down on the pilot's seat, crossing her arms and legs. "And you just decided to  _keep_  them. Of course you did."

The Doctor lifted an invisible eyebrow. "What happens if I get another friend that has your father's track record?" He pointed out. "I wont need to rely on someone else to give them CPR, for starters."

River was smiling. "No, they're a good idea."

* * *

They compared diaries as the Doctor flew them through the vortex. The Doctor deliberately took his time, making River go through every entry in her diary. She was almost deliriously happy that there were only three that she'd lived that he had not, meaning that he was almost as old as she'd ever seen him. He made a note of the times and places, and decided that he was going to make them good ones. She'd had a special little smile on her face as she read them out to him, so he supposed he must have succeeded.

They went dancing on Giggaza Three, where they were just as unorthodox as the Doctor in their steps. River laughed and laughed and laughed, letting her hair down for once, and dancing just as uninhibitedly as the Doctor. (She acted all serious and dignified most of the time, but in reality, he took pride in the fact that she had become just as crazy and fun-loving as himself when their lives weren't in the balance.) They joined in the line dances, stomping and clapping their way around the ballroom and out into the open air.

There were bonfires and barbeques, local delicacies offered for free as part of the party. He admired the way the multicoloured firelight reflected off her skin, making her appear almost ethereal. She was already a creature of legend on hundreds of planets—the wife of a God, a mortal woman given eternal life because she'd earned the favour of the most powerful creature in the entire Universe. Looking at her, shimmering green and yellow and blue and laughing and dancing in the firelight, he could almost believe the embellishments of the legends, despite being there for most of their origins.

After the party, they walked hand in hand around the docks, trying some of the street vendor food in between the Doctor spinning her down the path.

* * *

The next time he saw her, it was her birthday.

As was the custom every ten years, they swung by her parents' house for dinner and cake. They landed a bit later in the day than the Doctor had expected, striding out the TARDIS doors and into the backyard of the Ponds' London flat. The light from the mid afternoon sun cast long shadows across the lawn.

Rory was halfway down the steps before they reached the doors.

"Rory!" The Doctor grinned, holding his arms open for a hug.

What he got, instead, was a punch in the face. He fell, sprawling along the ground.

"That was a rotten trick, you know." Rory offered a hand to help him up.

"What was?" The Doctor accepted his father-in-law's hand as Amy pushed out and into the back garden. She launched herself at him, nearly toppling him over again. "Easy, Pond." He returned her hug, shooting a bewildered glance at an amused River. "What's going on?"

"Utah." Amy punched his shoulder as she pulled away.

Understanding dawned in the Doctor's eyes. "Ah." He tugged on his lapels and straightened his bowtie. "Landed a bit early. Sorry, dear." He glanced at River.

"That's alright." She smiled gently, accepting her mother's embrace. "This Doctor is quite a bit older than you know him." She told them.

Rory squinted at him. "How much older?"

"It's been two hundred and sixty-nine years since Utah." He announced proudly, to their surprise.

They went inside, the Doctor announcing that it was time for singing and cake—at the Ponds' confusion, River shook her head in fond exasperation. Of course the Doctor had forgotten to call ahead. "It's my birthday." She told them.

Amy and Rory looked at each other, eyes wide. "Oh my God." Amy looked back at River. "We don't have any presents or cake—we didn't know you were coming."

"It's alright." River laughed. "You've never forgotten any other year. You can hardly be blamed for your first."

Amy insisted on taking River down to her favourite bakery in order to choose a birthday cake. They left the Doctor with stern orders not to destroy anything or jump ahead to when they came back, disappearing down the street with Amy spouting apologies until they were out of earshot.

Rory put the kettle on and started going through the freezer, choosing what to cook for dinner. They were, Amy had informed them, going to just buy chips for dinner, but River's birthday meant that they were going to have to do something a bit more special. "You didn't tell us you were coming." He remarked.

The Doctor shrugged. "I've never needed to." He admitted. "We've been coming back to visit you on birthdays for centuries. You've always just expected us. We usually make it on the same date, give or take a day." He looked over Rory's shoulder. "She likes a chicken roast, by the way."

"How does that work, then?" Rory asked, pulling out the frozen bird and setting it to defrost in the microwave. "You've been coming for centuries, but Amy and I wont live for that long."

The Doctor shrugged, helping himself to a cup of tea, making Rory one as well. "We only come back every ten years. Mostly I take her someplace spectacular, or a party of some sort. We'll head out after tea. I was thinking of taking her to Appalapachia—centuries before the plague, of course. She only has one heart, but her physiology is close enough to mine that she could potentially be at risk of Chen-Seven. I'd rather not find out for sure." He averted his eyes. He knew that Rory had never quite forgiven him for that misadventure. "I'd invite you and Amy along, but I don't think you'd want to go back."

Rory was staring out the window. "No." He answered absently. "I don't think so."

"Did you ever tell her?" The Doctor asked, stirring his tea unnecessarily. "About what really happened?"

Rory shook his head. "I told her one of the robots got—the other one." He took a sip of his tea. "She doesn't know. I don't think she'd take it well."

"You're probably right." The Doctor nodded. "Anyway! How long has it been for you? Since I dropped you off after the Minotaur?"

Rory came back to himself, setting his mug of tea down and reaching into a cupboard for the biscuit container. "Two months."

"And, since River told you…?"

Rory glanced back at him, setting the container on the counter and settling onto one of the stools. The Doctor sat opposite him. "How'd you know about that?"

"I came back, when I was younger. Not this Christmas, the one after, it was." He wondered if today was why they'd started setting a place for him. "Amy told me."

Rory nodded, choosing a shortbread biscuit. "Three weeks." He munched on it. "We've seen her a few times since you left us. Pops in for tea every now and again."

"Good," the Doctor nodded, "that's good. She keeps me informed, you know. About how you're going. It's all out of order, but…"

Rory sighed. "So that's it then? You drop us off and don't bother to check in on us at all? I mean, we are kind of your in-laws." He frowned. "That's a weird though. Never getting used to that."

"Oi!" The Doctor frowned, indignant. "Didn't I just tell you? Christmas and birthdays. Not just hers—we visit for yours and Amy's. Oh, and anniversaries." He paused. "We don't go anywhere on the TARDIS, mind. Just visits."

"That sounds good." Rory nodded. "Amy's getting restless, though."

"Ah, you're not done running yet." The Doctor grinned. "Bit of a spoiler, but… well, you'll find out soon enough. All in my past, of course." A dark look crossed the Doctor's face, but Rory missed it, choosing another biscuit.

They chatted for a while, the Doctor helping rather competently when Rory began preparing for dinner. They were lucky that Amy had been shopping recently—the cupboards and fridge were well stocked with various spices and vegetables. Soon, the smell of roasting chicken and vegetables filled the house. The Doctor inhaled appreciatively. "I do love a good roast." He admitted. "So long as Amy's not cooking."

"Oi!" Amy's voice called out from the hall, the sound of the front door closing behind her ringing out. "I heard that!"

"He's right though, mother." River came into view, leading Amy, who was carrying a cake box. "Remember that Christmas when we were seventeen?"

Amy turned red. "Shut up." She grumbled. "You're never too old for a smack from your Mum." She threatened.

The rest of the night passed in a happy blur. There was chatter and laughter and a bottle of wine that Amy dug up from last Christmas to go with the food. It had been, River recalled, a gift from Mels.

Amy looked at it curiously. "You're right." She realised. "Well, I think it's time you got a glass, don't you?"

Afterwards, they tucked into the huge mudcake, River leaning over to kiss some chocolate from the Doctor's lip.

* * *

The next time, River was very young—just started University, in fact. She was skittish. It was the first time she'd seen him since Berlin.

They spent the day in—the Doctor had wanted to take her for dinner, but she'd insisted that she wanted to stay at the University. Instead, they went for coffee and cake in the local café before he took her on a tour of the TARDIS, spending the entire afternoon showing her the different rooms, discovering ones he'd forgotten or hadn't created yet. He even managed to unearth the old one she'd used back when he didn't know who she was, before they'd started sharing.

"This is my room?" River stepped in, looking around. "The one that the future me uses?"

"Yep." He leaned in the doorway. The room looked rather like a fancy hotel. Pieces of antique furniture littered the place—it was more like a  _wing_ than a room. He was almost certain she had her own firing range behind one of those doors. "Never spent much time in here, myself. Haven't seen it for a while."

"What?" River looked back at him sharply, eyebrow raised. "Because we  _share_?"

"Only when you're ready." He said softly. "I'm a lot older than I was when you last saw me, River, and I've seen you a lot of times since. But none of that is set in stone. If you decide you don't want this, all you have to do is say so."

She hesitated, looking torn between wanting to press the issue and pretending it never came up. She chose the latter. "Show me the swimming pool? Mother says it's massive."

* * *

The last time before Darillium, she was mid-timeline.

She was curled up on her cot when he arrived inside her cell, brakes ringing out for the entire prison to hear. He bounded out, all smiles, the grin sliding off his face as he took in the sight of her. "River?"

She sat up, taking a breath. If he was as young as she was obviously expecting, he would have missed the pain written neatly across her features. "Hello, sweetie." She finally looked him in the eye, freezing. "You're old."

"What a thing to say to your dear husband." He raised an eyebrow, extending her a hand. She took it. "When are we?"

"Florida." She accepted his hand, hauling herself up and pressing her face into his shirt. "I thought—it's been such a long time, I—"

He smoothed a hand over her riotous curls, dipping his head to press a kiss onto her forehead. "Of course it wasn't the last." He murmured against her skin. "Do you really think either of us would ever settle for that?" He scoffed.

She managed a chuckle. "I suppose not."

"Come on," he tugged her back toward the TARDIS doors. "Let's go before the guards get here."

"What about you?" She asked him, following him willingly.

He grinned at her. "I'm older than  _you've_  ever seen me."

She pulled the doors shut behind her, leaning on them and smiling at him coquettishly. "What makes you so sure of that?"

He leaned down to her ear level. "Because," he whispered, "I've seen you near the end." He ignored the way she stiffened. "It's never over, River." He promised. "We'll come full-circle, one of these days."

She relaxed, running her hands up under his shirt, scratching at his chest. "Is that a promise?" She purred.

"Well, it could be Rule One," he conceded, "but you'll just have to wait and see."

* * *

He got his hair cut in New New Jersey before he picked River up for Darillium. She was finishing up a dig—they made hasty arrangements with the other professor on her team, telling him that she would be coming home on her own. He allowed her time to dress, and watched from a distance as she entered the wrong TARDIS. He waited to see her emerge to check the bulb, taking off after her when she went back in.

"No, River!" He pushed in through the doors. "Wrong TARDIS, I'm parked round the back." He looked up the stairs at his other self. "Younger version."

River stepped forward, staring at the younger Doctor. "Two of you?" She breathed, intrigued. "The mind  _races_ , does it not?"

"Come on," he prodded. "We'll be late."

"He's taking me to see the Singing Towers of Darillium." She told the younger version as she left the TARDIS. "He's been promising for ages!"

He felt his expression slide into a slight mask of pain as the smile slid from his younger self's face. He remembered exactly what he'd been thinking during this encounter.

"The first time we met her," the younger Doctor started, "at the Library, when she…"

"Died," he averted his eyes, feeling the weight of the last few centuries of that knowledge on him once again, "yes."

"She said the last time she saw us was at Darillium. Is that now?"

He took a breath, looking back up at his younger self. Crossing his own timestream was nothing he was ever going to get used to, particularly being the older party in such exchanges. "Spoilers." He remembered hating that word. Funny. He  _still_  hated it, but for an entirely different reason. He changed the subject. "Good luck tonight."

He almost cracked a smile. Calderon Beta had been one of the highlights of his earlier days.

The other Doctor looked thoroughly miserable. "You too."

"Yeah." He offered a strained smile before turning and exiting the TARDIS.

He heard the younger River approach from behind. "There's two of you! The mind  _races_." He heard the echoes as he closed the door.

River was waiting for him in the correct TARDIS, almost draped across the railing leading up to the console. "That must have been… odd. Crossing your own timestream like that."

He managed a grin. "You very nearly crossed your own timestream, too. Twice, in fact."

She blinked at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Do you remember the night I picked you up for Calderon Beta?" He asked, seemingly offhandedly as he sent them into the Vortex.

"Of course I do."

"And the night you ran across me while you were being chased by Sontartans?"

She blinked, frowning. "The ones… that I asked about a hen night?"

"That's the one." He pressed a few buttons. "Both times, you thought I was talking to someone else." He paused, eyeing her as understanding dawned on her features. "They were the same night, for me. You heard me talking to the two other you's."

River laughed, snaking her hands around his waist. "Oh, Doctor. I'm sorry."

He turned in her embrace. "No harm done." He promised, leaning in to her upturned face and kissing her.

* * *

He cried, in the end.

It was stupid, he knew. She was going to be fine. She'd die—but she'd be fine. He'd make sure of it.

They danced to the music of the Towers, alone on the hilltop he'd booked for the evening. One of the benefits of the sonic screwdriver, he'd said. He could get any amount of money in any currency, from any credit machine. Waving the massive numbers of credits in the event planners' faces, he'd imagined he could almost see them drooling.

Afterward, River had laid her head on his lap as he leant back, the both of them looking out into the sky from their picnic blanket, the basket and remnants of their dinner set aside.

It was a very nice sky, the Doctor thought, all inky-blue and dotted with stars. There was a nebula some distance off, visible to the naked eye, but nowhere near as spectacular as up close. After he saved her from the Library, he was going to take her there. If he widened the range on the telepathic circuits, he might even be able to pick up the towers' songs again. The perfect way to start a linear life. Maybe they'd drop by to see Amy and Rory and visit them, first. It felt like the sort of thing to do—visiting one's parents after a near-fatal experience. If he were honest with himself, he missed his little family.

"You're crying." River observed, sitting up. She peered at him with worry.

The Doctor touched a hand to his cheek, startled to find water there. "So I am." He cleared his throat, making an effort not to sound too surprised.

"Why are you crying?"

He smiled, taking in the way she glowed in the light from down, closer to the towers. They could vaguely hear some drunken singing from other partygoers down the hill, but it didn't diminish the beauty of the evening. "No reason." He promised. "I'm fine."

She started to argue, so he pressed forward and kissed her.

He handed the screwdriver with the neural relay to her when he dropped her home.

* * *

He took care to land in a different room to last time, making sure it was safe before he stepped out of the cloaked TARDIS. He didn't bother to dress in black—if anyone asked, he was in the middle of changing into the standard black issue clothing that the Library provided it's patrons on entry.

He weaved through the crowd, careful to avoid Donna as she meandered back to the other TARDIS—he surprised himself, with how good his memory of this day was. But then, he supposed, he'd never let himself forget it.

He found River, eventually, covered in a white sheet by one of the reception desks. Mister Lux was on the comms, probably to the University. "Yes, I'm afraid she's dead, too." He was saying, glancing back at the covered body. "No, it was electrocution. There was nothing I could do." He wandered out of the room to find, he remembered, his younger self. He would accost him on his way back from uploading River into the mainframe.

"Oh, River," he breathed, pulling the sheet back and lightly running his hand down her cheek. "Let's get you inside, eh?"

It was difficult, lifting her; rigormortis was setting in. He managed it, however, getting her out of the room and into the invisible TARDIS (remembering to snap his fingers for the doors so he didn't walk into it) without drawing too much attention to himself.

He didn't even need to call the nanogenes—the second he kicked the door closed behind him, they were buzzing around his wife. He took her down the back corridor and into the med bay, laying her down on one of the pallets and sitting down on the chair at her side. There was nothing he could actively do but wait. His palms itched. Before he knew it, he was pacing.

There weren't as many of them as there were when they'd fixed little Jamie and the rest of the patients in nineteen forty-one, so the going was slower. In reality, it was maybe five minutes, but it felt like forever. All the 'what ifs' were running through his brain—what if there weren't enough of them? What if the ones he got were faulty? What if she was damaged beyond repair? What if she'd been dead too long?

His fears proved unfounded—after a few minutes, River was groaning. "I hurt all over." She complained. Then, her eyes shot open. "I'm  _alive_?"

He was by her side in an instant, pushing her back down as she tried to sit up. "Shh," he gently held her down. "Just relax. Let them finish."

She looked up at him, near hyperventilating in shock. "Doctor!" She breathed. "What are you doing here? Where am I? What's happening? I hooked myself up to a computer—I should be  _dead_!"

He smiled gently and pressed a finger to her lips. "Relax." He instructed gently.

"But—how am I alive? I thought I was going to die."

The smile slipped from his face. "You did die." He admitted, averting his eyes.

River ignored him and sat up. "I can't see properly." She squinted at his face. "What do you mean, I died? I'm obviously alive. I hurt too much to be dead."

He sat down next to her, running his fingers down her cheek as she reached up to touch his face. "You've been dead for roughly four or five hours. That's why it hurts so much—the nanogenes have to undo the damage caused by rigor, too."

She stared blankly at him—he could see the film over her eyes that had formed with her death. The nanogenes would fix that shortly. He knew she couldn't see more than a vague blur at the moment. But she was still clever. "This is what you got the nanogenes for…?" She whispered, as if afraid to break the stillness of the moment.

He nodded, forgetting that she couldn't see. "Yes. I'm sorry." He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, opening his mind. She responded in kind—he could sense the stiffness in her joints and the ache in her lungs, deprived of air for so long. Her head was swimming; she could barely manage to hang onto consciousness as the nanogenes slowly worked their magic. But he could feel her emotions; she was so overwhelmed. Her senses were going into overdrive.

"Stay here," he said gently. "I'm going to get you some tea and toast." He left the room slowly as she relaxed, focusing on her breathing with her eyes closed. He hated to leave her, but she'd be needing something to eat.

As the door slid shut behind him, cutting off the glow of the nanogenes as they worked, he allowed himself a face-splitting grin.

He'd saved her.

* * *

An hour later, River had eaten her toast and drank her tea. As the Doctor fluttered around under the console, she showered, taking her time. When she emerged, the Doctor was wiping his hands on a grease rag.

"Where's my diary?" She asked, leaning on the railing. She wasn't fully healed, but the nanogenes had done most of the work. The rest, time would take care of. She needed a long rest and a hearty meal, in that order. He would take her to Christmas at Amy and Rory's after she'd slept—he'd already bought and wrapped the presents.

"Outside." The Doctor nodded to the doors as she towelled her hair. "I left it on the railing on the balcony, last time I was here."

She threw the towel over the handrail, running her fingers through her hair. "Where?"

"Give me a moment." He pulled the goggles off his face. "It's not too far from here."

They exited the TARDIS together. The crowds had thinned a little since he'd brought her into it—he kept an eye on her as they wove through the throng, headed for the balcony where he remembered leaving her things.

They reached the staircase, spotting Mister Lux, who was looking extremely worried. He was wringing his hands and stopping everyone who passed him. As they approached, they could hear him speak. "Yes, she had curly hair. She was definitely dead—someone must have moved her, but I can't find where. Her family will be wanting her back, I suppose, but—"

"Sorry, I haven't seen her." The woman he was speaking to shook her head, hurrying up the stairs.

River tugged on the Doctor's sleeve, winking. When they got closer, she called out, "Looking for me, Mister Lux?"

The portly man fell over in shock. "But—but— _how_ —?!"

"My husband here is a very good doctor." She grinned, nodding to the Doctor. "Fixed me right up." She reached over and snatched up her diary and sonic screwdriver, that the younger Doctor had replaced on his trip back up.

"Your—your what?" He stared between the two of them, climbing to his feet. The Doctor grinned, wiggling his fingers in a wave. "But—but you were dead! He couldn't bring you back to life!"

The Doctor shrugged. "What's life?" He asked, remembering what he'd told Rose over four hundred years ago. "Life's easy. A quirk of matter. It's easy to bring someone back to life if you've got the right equipment."

"We'll be going, now." River reached forward and shook Mister Lux's hand. "Be a dear and call the University, tell them I'm alive and that I'll be back in a few days. There's a good lad." She smiled up at the Doctor. "I think it's time I had some sleep. And then a proper meal." She yawned.

"I think you're right." He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her off, back up the stairs. He felt Mister Lux staring after them, and couldn't help but lean down and press a kiss into her hair. "What do you say—after some sleep, of course—we cheat and jump ahead to Christmas? I feel like seeing the Ponds."

River beamed. "I don't have any gifts, though." She pointed out.

The Doctor winked. "Taken care of."

* * *

While River was sleeping, the Doctor silently flew the TARDIS down to the core of the planet.

"Doctor?" Charlotte looked at him from her perch in front of the mainframe. "You look different."

"How did you recognise me?" He frowned.

She smiled. "River's a part of me, now. I can see into her memories. She says, 'hello, sweetie'."

The Doctor sighed, closing his eyes as he leant against the closed doors of the TARDIS. His hearts squeezed for the version of his wife trapped inside the computer. Paying the price for his own selfishness. "I need to talk to her." He offered a sad smile. "She has a choice to make."

Charlotte's smile waned. "She asks, 'what choice?'"

The Doctor crossed his arms. "I've managed to save River—the proper River, the one out here. She's alive. I was selfish—I saved her data ghost because I needed a clue to my future self that I could save her properly."

"She says that she understands, but she wants to know what that means for her." Charlotte relayed.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Well, there's nothing I can do for her in there." He nodded up at the core of the computer. "If she wants to, she can live forever inside the computer, but I can't save her. She'll be trapped forever."

"And what's the other choice?" Charlotte's voice rang out, clear and bright.

The Doctor heaved a sigh, closing his eyes against the child's face. "If she would prefer, I could delete her from the mainframe. I know she'd be bored in there, sooner or later. I don't want her trapped and suffering."

There was a few moments of silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Then, Charlotte spoke. "She says to please delete her."

The Doctor nodded, his chest aching. She might not be the tangible River, curled up in his bed on the TARDIS, but she was still  _a_  River. He'd lived long enough with their timey-wimey timestreams to view any version of River as  _River_ , no matter where or when she was. A digital River was no different. "Tell her—" his voice broke. "Tell her that I love her… and that I'm sorry."

"She says she loves you too, and that she forgives you. She says, 'be happy'."

A few keystrokes later, and River was gone from the computer.

As he climbed into bed with his wife, he buried his nose in her hair and couldn't help but shed a few tears.

* * *

After a long sleep, they landed the TARDIS in Amy and Rory's back garden. A quick check of the scanner told them that it was the same year as their first time for River's birthday.

"They should be expecting us. I did tell Rory we do Christmases." The Doctor smiled at River, offering her his elbow. Linking arms, they stepped from the TARDIS and into the brisk winter air.

"They're here!" Amy was seated on the chair in the back garden, with a blanket draped across her shoulders and a mug of hot chocolate in her hands—which she nearly upset as she placed the mug on the table in order to rush forward and hug them.

"Merry Christmas, Ponds!" The Doctor hugged Amy after she'd finished with her daughter, Rory coming down the back steps and reaching for River.

"Let's get inside, yeah?" Rory suggested, rubbing his hands together.

"Yes, good idea." The Doctor waved his arms, shepherding the Pond family inside. "It's time to celebrate!" He announced as they shucked off their coats and hung them on the coat rack near the back door.

"Celebrate?" Amy looked between them. "What are we celebrating? Other than Christmas, anyway?"

The Doctor beamed down at River. "We're linear. We've finished with all the timey-wimey stuff: We can move forward together, now."

Amy looked like she was about to faint with happiness. She squeezed them both. "That's great! I'm so happy for you!"

Rory nodded along. "That's great news."

River was smiling. "It's more than that, though."

Rory frowned at her. "What do you mean? What  _else_  are we celebrating?"

River shrugged, burrowing into the Doctor's side as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Oh, just… being alive."

"Best thing there is." The Doctor agreed.


End file.
